


the other side

by punkcowboy



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Daydreaming, Gardening, Gardens & Gardening, LUTHER WANTS A GARDEN, Loneliness, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Luther Is Sad, Luther On The Moon, Reginald Hargreeves A+ parenting, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkcowboy/pseuds/punkcowboy
Summary: When Luther was on the moon, he had a lot of time to himself. Whenever he felt sad, or lonely, he would dream about having a garden





	the other side

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge where I had to write a fic from a word. The word I was assigned was:
> 
> hyggelig
> 
> (adj.) taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, comforting and soothing things; a feeling of friendship, warmth, peace and contentment in a comfortable and cozy atmosphere
> 
> I adore the idea that Luther has a secret love for plants- inspired by the little one he had in his room on the space station, as well as the fact that the fort Allison made for them was in the green house. With that combination, I figured he would have a soft spot for plants, and then I thought, well, darn, Luther totally wants a garden and it would absolutely be his ‘happy place’ to put it simply. And thus, this was born.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name by Conan Gray

Luther wanted a garden.

On the moon, in the countless hours he spent alone with his thoughts, he would think about this garden. Some days, it was the size of a field, and he could spend hours planting flowers and, with a little bit of love, watch them bloom- creating a glorious sea of bright, bright colours.

~~_The moon lacked colour_ ~~

Some days, it was just a small vegetable patch or two where he could grow carrots and lettuce and potatoes, and he could imagine himself, digging into the soft brown earth, could imagine dropping in the sprouts and waiting and then protecting the shoots from the little critters- the slugs and the snails and the worms.

~~_The moon was desolate, grey and empty_ ~~

Down in his garden- there was so much life. So many little seeds waiting for their chance to grow into something beautiful. So many birds, chirping to each other, swooping through the sky, dancing and dancing and dancing. Bees working hard to provide for their Queen, to pollinate the flowers and keep them blooming and keep the world beautiful.

In his garden, it would rain. But he would still go out to tend to his plants- put on Wellington Boots and a raincoat- yellow, they were always yellow in the books he had read- and squelch through the mud. Hear the tip tap of raindrops on his hood, feel the cool weight of them on his hands as they potted and trowelled and raked through something that wasn’t just.

Dust.

~~_Anything would be better than dust and rock_ ~~

There would be so many colours. Brown, the brown of dirt and mud and bugs and dark wood, the bark of trees that Luther could sit under if he needed a break. Yellow, pretty flowers and sunshine, and shiny, red apples and rosy red cheeks from working hard. Orange carrots and yellow daffodils and green grass and leaves and stalks. And most importantly, there would be blue skies, a bright happy blue.

~~_The moon was grey, grey, grey and the sky was always dark_ ~~

Soothing. It would be soothing, potting plants and nurturing the creation of beautiful things, simply letting everything else melt away. Any worries, any anger or pain or sadness, would disappear as he focussed on the routine motions of upholding his garden.

Surrounded by plants- he would be happy. At peace.

And the sun would shine, and the birds would chirp and he could be more than content and his garden would be more than just a fairytale to stop himself from going crazy.

For now, Luther would have to make do with the solitary potted plant, on the table by his bed, on the moon. But he could sit, and he could close his eyes, and he could dream. Dream of his garden, down somewhere on Earth, waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> In which the beginning note is longer than the actual fic.
> 
> Seriously though this is super short but I love it🥰 and I will fight for this headcanon😤
> 
> Hope y’all enjoyed, any feedback is much appreciated as always! :)


End file.
